The Scars Of Your Love
by SophiaBushFan
Summary: Derek's been gone for a long time, but Stiles still can't deal with that. Even with Jackson in his bed, he can't move on. Stiles/Jackson with some Stiles/Derek undertones. Please R&R


Disclaimer: I don't own Adele's songs or Teen Wolf, or its characters.

…

Stiles Stilinski let out a ragged breath. The young man closed and opened his eyes several times, trying to shake off the heaviness inside his head. His heart was beating faster than it should have been, and he waited impatiently for that sudden calm that was supposed to come after awaking from a nightmare, but it remained painfully elusive.

As surreptitiously as possible Stiles pulled the fluffy black comforter off of his body and rolled to the side in an effort, he frowned when he felt the sheet peel of his sticky backside. He cast a look backward, over his shoulder at his still slumbering bedmate, Jackson. Stiles heart felt heavy as he took in the image of the young man. He watched as the former lacrosse player's chest rose and fell, he could just barely make out the sound of the boy's breathing in the still of the quiet room. Stiles eyes traveled down the expanse of the other male's body, long and toned, strong.

Stiles had always envied just how perfect Jackson was. He was tall, where Stiles was just above average height. He was strong and muscular where Stiles' body had always favored more tone than muscle. Eventually Stiles eyes found their way back to Jackson's face. Even in the middle of the night, one would be hard-pressed to find a flaw among Jackson Whitmore's features. It was surprising to Stiles that Jackson had never been plastered on a runway somewhere, spending his days and nights plundering cover girls and top models.

Then again, since graduation—even before—Jackson had not been the same person Stiles knew him to be as a teenager. When his transformation into a werewolf was completed, the changes were obvious. He wasn't just faster and stronger, he seemed almost kinder. He was more attentive. He stood up for those he'd once squandered—like Stiles.

By the time their senior year arrived Jackson was as immersed into their freaky little group as Allison and Scott; even Lydia and Danny frequented their Scooby meetings. They'd spent their summers prepping for SATs and their days surviving the hells that were high school and their lacrosse coach. And at night they quietly defended Beacon Hills from a litany of beasties and things that went bump in the night. And when they weren't doing any of that they were tripping over themselves to undress each other.

Save for one break up, right before junior prom Scott and Allison had managed to stay completely loyal to each other. The training he received from Derek had helped him to keep his wolf at bay, giving him the chance to earn the trust of Allison's parents; although, news of Allison's relationship with Scott was not advertised on their Christmas card. Until their graduation Beacon Hills had been frequented by enough evil things to keep the Argents from moving on—keeping the two love stricken teens together.

Once she had recovered from Peter Hale's attack at the winter formal, Lydia Martin, came to find that she no longer need the support of a relationship or a man—even one like Jackson. Halfway through their junior year, Lydia's mother (upon the realization that Beacon Hills had become some sort of mecca for supernatural badassness) revealed to her that the Martin women weren't exactly the cookie-cutter housewife-type. Lydia's ancestry consisted of a long line of powerful witches. And Lydia was next in line.

The fiery-haired genius proved to be a strong resource for the group in the battling of all their different monsters. Over the next few semesters as she went along she left both monsters and broken-hearted boys in her wake—Stiles had once been one of those boys.

Eventually she grew intimidating enough that not even Derek Hale, alpha of Northern California, dared to fix her with his signature glower. Stiles suspected that the older male even shared a soft spot for the young girl. Powerful beings respected each other.

Derek Hale.

Not moments ago Stiles had been so deep in a dream of the green eyed man. His erratic heartbeat enough evidence of the lingering impression the man had left on his insides.

It was not long after the demise of Peter Hale that Stiles and Derek had begun to entangle themselves in each other. Once Derek had bitten Jackson the alpha seemed to retreat from the rest of the world. Stiles eventually learned that his isolation had been due to the guilt he felt for turning Jackson. Though, the boy had managed to become a success—a pack member Derek was proud of—the alpha still felt as if it was something he had forced on the teen. Jackson's desire grew from a place of fear, and greed, he had not wanted the change for the right reasons. Derek had shocked himself when he supported the decision.

It was during one of Derek's famous guilt-stricken brood fests that Stiles had finally had enough of it. He stared menacingly, or attempted to, at the dark-haired man, before punching him square in the jaw. Stiles had doubled-over; clutching his throbbing right hand and spewing a series of obscenities that would cause even a sailor to blush.

"_The hell was that, Stilinski?" Derek questioned him, pairing it with an effectively menacing glare. His trademark stare. _

_Stiles flicked out his wrist, flexed his fingers and looked back up. He could see the flecks of red glowing behind Derek's eyes. "Before you eat me, just know that you deserved that." Derek only glared more harshly, "I mean, you've been at this for weeks. So, what you made a bad judgment call. You turned a douche into predator." The alpha growled, "Now, now, hear me out. It could have been worse. He could have died. Or he could have gone all Beast of Bray Road on our asses, but he didn't. Jackson might be a little hard to handle, but he is handling this._

_Derek let out a hard breath, "And you punched me, because…" he trailed off dangerously._

"_I dunno, they do it in the movies all the time. Usually it works for them. I just figured it might for you, too. I mean, if you really feel like you have to kill me now to assert your alphaness or whatever, go for it." He closed his eyes and braced himself for the ass whopping he was sure was to come. "Just avoid the face."_

_But the onslaught never came. Instead Stiles felt a solid, warmth press him to him. And before he could open his eyes Derek was kissing him. Hard-core kissing him. It wasn't tame or gentle or explorative. It was dominating and rough, just like Derek was. For a moment Stiles was caught off guard but before he realized it he was kissing back. So what if he wasn't gay. So what if he had never thought of a guy in that way. Except for one time when he'd seen Jackson strip in the locker room—and whoa! Now was not the time to reflect on that particular memory. Instead he focused solely on Derek. On his lips, his hands, and the way that they were everywhere—devouring him, claiming him._

_Derek was making Stiles his._

_And that's what Stiles would remain for the next three years. _

…

Stiles listened intently to the sound of the heavy rain outside as it beat against the innocent pavement below. He could hear the sound of tires sliding over the wet surface as cars passed. He yearned to hear anything other than the pounding of his own heartbeat. He wanted nothing more than to focus anything but the dull, heavy ache in his chest that threated to overtake him. He slowly sat up, and clenched his jaw, hoping to hold back the wetness that rested too close behind his eyes.

He threw another glance in Jackson's direction. He really was a terrible person. He was not exactly sure what he and Jackson were—they had never officially put a title on anything. They were friends and they cared for one another of that much he was sure. But other than the occasional _sleep over _between hang outs they had never really claimed to be more. Also, Stiles was not oblivious to the fact that Jackson had a few other friends that he liked to have stay the night. And if he was a more honest being he might admit that a part of him resented the others.

He might not be a wolf, but that did not mean he couldn't be territorial.

Then again, he currently sat in Jackson's bed silently as his insides were torn apart by the memories of someone else. Someone long gone. What right did he have to be jealous, to claim Jackson for his own?

Stiles let out another slow breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding and gently pushed the comforter further back and slid quietly out of the California King. He pulled the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth as he did his best to tip-toe across the large bedroom. Once he made his way to the bathroom, he slipped past the half open door, pulling it closed and flinching when it clicked.

As he stepped toward the sink he flipped a switch and suddenly everything was bright and white. He squinted for a moment before blinking a few times. Setting his hands on top of the cool, marble sink he leaned forward and took another ragged breath. He took in his own appearance in the mirror that hung in front of him. His pale skin from his neck down to his chest was covered in purple marks; he swore he could see the outline of Jackson's mouth all over him. And if the slight itch over his back was any indication he was sure he had several scratches down the length of his back. His arms also possessed marks that remind him of the way Jackson's hands had squeezed him as he lifted him up and dragged him to the bedroom, tossing him down.

It was odd how similar his body looked after a night with Jackson as it had after Derek had claimed him all those years ago. He assumed the constant need to mark the people they were with was some sort of werewolf thing. Stiles assumed those who were not as in the know about Jackson's little secret probably just assumed he liked to be rough. Which he was sure they were alright with, the same way he was alright with it. The scratching, and the biting, and the pulling, it only made everything so much better. Jackson drowned him in a mix of pleasure and pain so great that there was nothing left during their time together or for the brief period of time afterwards.

The rest of the world was gone when Jackson was pressed against him, pressed _inside_ of him. The same way nothing else had mattered when Derek would pull him in and take control of his body.

The dull ache he had been trying to hold at bay finally succeeded in overpowering him and his chest began to heave. And the tears he had been trying to suppress trickled steadily down his face.

Stiles bit into his lower lip again, not evening flinching at the taste of copper and salt. He needed to be quiet; Jackson was only a few yards away. He didn't need to see this; to be expressly aware of just how weak and broken Stiles was.

…

Stiles wasn't sure how long he had been there like that, struggling to stand and to breathe. Trying his best to regain his composure and to once again bottle his emotions, but eventually he found himself calm. The kind of odd calm that comes once everything you had been trying to hide finally comes out; the kind that's washed away in a stream of salt and wet.

With a deep breath Stiles wiped the back of his right hand across his face and turned on the faucet. Putting his hands together Stiles leaned down and brought his cupped hands to his face. Turing off the faucet he reached for the nearby hand towel and brought it to his face, dabbing away the dampness.

"Holy baby fucking Jesus!" Stiles jumped and threw the towel down as he caught sight of Jackson's reflection in the mirror. He spun around and brought a hand to his chest. "That is it!" Taking a moment to swallow the lump in his throat, Stiles continued, "First thing in the morning we are going to Pet Smart to pick out a bell collar for you, Fido!"

Jackson's eyes narrowed momentarily at the lame dog joke before his gaze softened once more and he crossed his arms. "You alright in here?"

Stiles gave a nod, "Yeah, I'm good. Just taking a quick bathroom break." He went to make his way past Jackson, but found himself stuck when Jackson grasped his bicep.

"Stiles." The werewolf's tone was firm.

Stiles tried to wriggle free of the blonde's grasp, but he might have been more successful at sucking anti-venom out of a cobra. "Jackson, c'mon, man, I said I was fine." Stiles could see Jackson's neck tense as he swallowed and his jaw clench. But he let go. Stiles was half way out the door when Jackson spoke once more.

"It's been a long time since you've lied to me." Jackson's tone was thoughtful.

Stiles visibly flinched, freezing in place, this time by his own choice. "We don't need to do this, Jackson, I'm fine."

Jackson did not turn to face Stiles, but the other boy could see the lycan nod to himself, "I've spent a lot of time, years actually, listening to the sound of your heartbeat," he turned to face his friend, "You honestly think I can't tell when you're lying to me?"

Stiles pursed his lips and his chest felt heavy again, only this time from guilt. It was his turn to grab Jackson by the arm as the boy passed, only he gripped him lightly by the wrist, their arms hanging between them. "I'm sorry, Jacks." Stiles turned into the other young man, still clutching his wrist, "I just don't want to talk about it."

"You never want to talk about it." Jackson countered stepped a hair closer to the other.

"Because it doesn't matter—what's gone is gone. It's in the past, it obviously didn't last, and there is no point in reminiscing or exploring it." Stiles could feel himself growing impatient.

"But it means enough for you to cry about it?" Jackson boldly pressed.

"I should go." Stiles dropped Jackson's wrist and stepped away from him, realizing for the first time that Jackson was still naked, and he himself was covered only by a pair of black boxer briefs.

Stiles began to make his way around the dimly lit bedroom, collecting his different articles of clothing. He had only managed to find a sock and his plain white tee by the time he felt himself being thrust against a wall. "What the hell, Jackson."

"You're not going anywhere." The taller man's eyes began to glow a bright green, and Stiles could feel Jackson's nails lengthen as they pressed against the skin wrapped in Jackson's fingers.

"I know you won't hurt me." Stiles was sure in his assumption, but his voice still sounded small and unsure in his own ears.

Jackson's gaze remained steely for a long time before he spoke, "You can't leave me." His eyes returned to their normal baby blue, and his grip loosened. "You're always pushing me away. You're always trying to leave and I'm tired of it."

"Jackson, you don't understand." Stiles tired.

Jackson's brow furrowed and went on as he shook his head in the negative, "No, you don't understand. We've been friends for a long time Stilinski, and we've been…" The blonde trailed off as he tried to think of the right term, "whatever it is that we are for a while now. You should trust me enough to know that I am not going to hurt you. I am not going to walk away, the same way Derek did."

"Jackson, don't." Stiles warned the other.

"And I am not going to let you walk away." Jackson stared at him seriously, "I know that some part of you is still in love with him, that you're still hurting. And that's okay. But you can't spend the rest of your life waiting for something that might never happen." He took a slow breath before he went on, "And I won't wait around forever."

Stiles stayed quiet for a long time, unsure of what to say. Eventually Jackson let go of the other boy, unsure of how he had reacted to everything he had just said. But the sound of the other's quickening heartbeat was a clear indication that he had some sort of impact.

"You don't want to be with me."

By now Jackson had made his way over the bed and Stiles stood in front of him, fingers tracing up and down his arm. Jackson didn't look up as Stiles went on.

"You're too good for me." He laughed a little, "Back in high school I never thought I'd say that about you, but it's true." Stiles thought for a moment, still not looking Jackson in the eyes, "You went off and turned into this great guy, this genuinely nice guy. Jackson, you're strong, successful, and loyal, and brave." Stiles hand traveled over Jackson's chest, and up his neck, and along his jawline, "Not to mention, you're kind of a fox." Jackson smiled softly.

"You've been my best friend for a while now, you're right up there with Scott, and that means more to me than you might know. And I know that you would take care of me. You would take me places I've never been, make me feel things I might never feel. And it would be wonderful."

"So what's the problem?" Jackson interrupted.

"Me." Stiles provided, "It might not be a month from now, or a year from now, but eventually I'd mess it up. I'm just not ready."

Jackson just nodded, and looked away, mentally distancing himself from Stiles.

"Hey," Stiles placed a hand under Jackson's chin and forced him to look him in the eyes, as he crawled onto the blonde's lap. "I'm not saying never. And I know you can't wait around for me to just be better. I know that someday you could find someone new, someone better, someone who is everything you need him or her to be. And I'll probably hate it and regret ever letting you go. But I need you to know that I'm doing this, because I need you in my life. Whether it's in your bed or as my best friend or something more someday. And I know that if we get into this or we label it right now, when it's all said and done, you won't be there."

Stiles leaned forward pressing his lips to Jackson's neck, "Please, don't be angry with me, Jacks."

Jackson closed his eyes and wrapped his arms loosely around stiles, the lingering feeling of Stiles' lips ghosting through him. "Someday?" His voice was small and it sounded odd to both of them.

Stiles nodded against Jackson, his lips still wandering over the smooth skin of the other man's collar bone, "Someday."

Jackson craned his neck, giving Stiles better access as he slowly fell back on the bed, pulling Stiles down with him.

Maybe neither one of them was ready, maybe they never would be. But they would both cherish every moment they did have for as long as they could, because no matter how disconnected Stiles could be, Jackson hadn't left him. And at least for a while he did not seem to be going anywhere. They could both take comfort in that for now.

….

Author's Note: So, I wasn't sure where that was going to go. I hope you guys liked it. I tried not to focus too much on Derek, because I wanted their relationship to be a bit of a mystery and I didn't want to make him out to be the bad guy. For now this is a one shot, but I think I might turn it into a two or three tier kind of thing.


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